If the city of Boston has its way, a new rail line could snake through one of New England’s most haunted places.

If all goes as planned, workers traveling between Boston and the small bedroom communities dotting southern Massachusetts will soon have a quicker way to get to and from their city jobs. The Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority plans to build a new railroad line that, when finished, will link Beantown with such downstate towns as Fall River and New Bedford.

But those commuters could be in for a very eventful trip. A section of the track passes through a bit of cursed ground known as the Bridgewater Triangle—a roughly two-hundred-square-mile (51,800 hectare) area that’s centered on a five-thousand-acre (2,025 hectare) patch of primordial wetland known as Hockomock Swamp. Environmentalists say it’s home to many rare and wonderful creatures, including the blue-spotted salamander and the ringed boghaunter dragonfly.

All of which is well and good—and of no interest whatsoever to the average business traveler. But legend also holds that creatures far more formidable than flying bugs and slimy amphibians inhabit Hockomock—also known, tellingly, as the Devil’s Swamp. The area’s sodden moors form the dark heart of a paranormal hot spot that reputedly draws visitations from every sort of supernatural horror known to humanity, including (but not confined to) Bigfoot, UFOs, cattle mutilations, hauntings, and creatures so bizarre they defy description, let alone explanation.

According to local lore, the area’s Native Americans were always leery of the swamp and the land surrounding it. The Europeans who displaced them soon developed an equally healthy respect—perhaps because it was said that the original inhabitants cursed the place before being driven away. This bit of real estate had its first UFO sighting back on May 10, 1760, though residents at the time referred to the phenomenon, which appeared at around ten in the morning, as a “sphere of fire.” The light it radiated was so intense that it cast shadows. This was only a prelude of things to come. Over the last few decades, UFOs have buzzed the area on an almost weekly basis. They seem as common as the Hockomock’s ringed boghaunter dragonfly.

And so, for that matter, is Bigfoot. Time and again, residents of the neighborhoods scattered throughout the Bridgewater Triangle have seen giant, hairy creatures everywhere from the woods to suburban streets. Local cops even reported that one picked up the back end of a parked (and occupied) police cruiser, then dropped it and ran away before the car’s surprised occupants could react. And on more than one occasion, local police have reportedly been summoned to investigate sightings of marauding “bears,” even though bears were long ago exterminated from the area. One resident in the town of Bridgewater even reported seeing a Bigfoot-like creature in her backyard casually eating a pumpkin.

As if the Bigfoot problem weren’t enough, Triangle residents also must contend with regular sightings of gigantic black birds with eight- to twelve-foot (2.4–3.6 m) wingspans; a spectral dog with red eyes that in 1976 reportedly killed two ponies; and the mysterious ritualistic slaughter of domestic animals that the authorities blame on “cultists.” Floating, glowing balls of light, commonly called “spook lights,” also waft about the area. And, perhaps inevitably, the locals have even sighted “black helicopters”—unmarked rotorcraft that conspiracy theorists believe are the conveyance of choice for mysterious government operatives.

The idea of running a commuter rail line through so many oddities sounds dicey at best, and downright dangerous at worst. One certainly feels for the crews who will have to install the rails straight through the UFO- and Bigfoot-infested Hockomock. Even the folks who use the train probably won’t be able to breathe a sigh of relief once they pull into the station. Consider the strange encounter that took place a few years ago, not out on the moors but on Elm Street, which is part of a residential neighborhood in Bridgewater. One night a citizen reported seeing a creature furtively ducking down inside a parked car. A creature with a pale white face, no hair, no nose, no lips, and no eyebrows.

What was it? No one can say. It just proves that in the Bridgetown Triangle, weirdness can—and often does—follow you right to your front door.